Brand New Eyes
by xxBethJoyxx
Summary: Belle Porter is a consultant for the DCPD. She has something she likes to call Hyper Observation. One day she has to go to the Lightman group for help. Cal thinks she could easily see microexpressions if she tried, but so far she's had no luck. Will she ever become part of the team? Loker/OC
1. Dream

Belle Porter examined the contents taped to the clear board in front of her. There had to be something she was missing. She looked at the picture of the body. The blood was splattered out on the ground, telling her the body definitely was dropped there but it wasn't the kill point, there wasn't enough blood for that. If there was more blood she would have said suicide, but she had ruled that out the first time she looked at the body. She moved onto the next picture; the balcony where the cops thought the victim jumped from. It was spotless; no blood, no scuff marks, no fingerprints besides the victims. If the killer had cleaned the area, surely the fingerprints of the victim would have been erased as well, that eliminated the balcony as the fall point. Next picture; the roof. The roof was too steep for anyone to have kept footing on. As it was the crime scene photographers never stepped foot on it, they simply took the pictures from the latter. Not the roof. She examined all the other photographs of windows and other possible fall points. None of it made sense. Her victim had fallen from a high altitude, but from where. Belle let out a frustrated scream and ripped the pictures off of the board, discarding them on the ground. She fell back in her chair and covered her face with her hands. A whole day she had been staring at the photos, looking for an answer. She was so good at picking out the details, it didn't make sense. She uncovered her face with a sigh, and that's when she saw it. She picked the photograph off the ground. There, in the photo of the balcony, was the tail end of the enclosed porch of the house next door.

Belle quickly went into her bedroom and pulled on a black shirt and black skinny jeans. She zipped up her black jacked, pulled the hood over her blonde hair, and placed her gloves on her hands before running over to the crime scene. She snuck around to the back of the victims house and found the latter the police had used to get to the roof. She moved it as quietly as she could until it rested against the neighbouring enclosed porch. She climbed up the ladder and onto the roof. The roof was sturdy and flat, a nice easy area for a fight to have broken out on. There was a window level with the roof. Belle measured it with her eyes, it wouldn't be difficult at all for one to slip in and out. She pulled her flashlight out of her pocket and covered it with her hand before turning it on so only a sliver of light shone onto the roof. There, traces of blood. The lights went on in the house. Belle spun on her heal and started to climb down the ladder. "Hey!" a voice yelled from the window level with the roof. A man began to open the window the rest of the way and climb out. Belle jumped from the ladder and rolled into a landing to protect herself from broken bones. She knew she would have some harsh bruises later but she'd rather that than a broken leg. She ran as fast as she could to the side street where she had parked her car and went straight to the police station.

"Detective Thompson!" Belle called as she ran down the hall to the detective that was just arriving. She was a stern looking woman, in her late 30's. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun and her clothes were spotless. Just by looking at her you could tell she was not a woman to be messed with.

"What do you want, Freak," Detective Thompson used her pet name for the girl. Belle shrugged it off and explained what she had found in the photograph. She left out her expedition to the house, changing her shirt to a light blue in the car and ditching her jacket.

"And you think that the killer pushed Mr. Jones from the enclosed porch," Thompson questioned, sceptically.

"No, I think someone from that house killed Mr. Jones, brought his body onto the porch, and threw him off to make it look like a suicide," Belle explained. Thompson scoffed.

"Please, just send someone over to look at the porch," Belle pleaded. Thompson studied her face before letting out a sigh.

"Rockwood, take Ms. Porter over to the Jones crime scene and investigate the neighbour's roof to their enclosed porch. Report back to me with any evidence you find," Thompson called over a tall police officer with dark hair and a muscular build. He nodded and motioned to Belle to follow him.

"Thank you, Thompson; you won't regret this," Belle smiled at the detective before taking off after Rockwood.

They arrived at the house and went to the neighbour's door.

"Yes?" A man much shorter than Rockwood, but only slightly taller than Belle opened the door.

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Rockwood and this is consultant Belle Porter. Is this your house?" Rockwood asked.

The man looked frightened. "Yes, is there something wrong officer?"

"We would like to look at your porch roof, if that is possibly. We think it might have to do with a murder investigation."

"What? Yes of course." The man ushered them in and lead them to the second floor. He took them into a bedroom to a window that lead out to the porch roof. "I don't know what you expect to find, officer, but I hope I can be of assistance. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Thank you, Mr …" Rockwood trailed off, realizing they didn't know the man's name.

"Oh, Smith. Roger Smith," the man shook Rockwood's hand and headed out.

"Ok, so what are we looking for?" Rockwood asked Belle.

"Lets go out onto the porch, it's sturdy enough to-" she trailed off. As she was talking she opened the blinds to reveal the roof of the porch. It was cracked and frail looking. There were holes all over it and it looked like if anyone were to step on it, it would collapse underneath the weight of even a child. Worst of all, there was no traces of blood. Belle was horrified.

"It doesn't look sturdy at all to me," Rockwood stated.

"No, no this isn't right. It should be strong and there should be blood and we should be able to walk on it." Belle said, as though speaking her memories would make them true again.

Rockwood shrugged. "I guess the roof wasn't the fall point."

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Belle and Rockwood headed back to the police station when their examination was completed. Belle set off to find Thompson to break the news and admit she was wrong, no matter how false she knew the statement would be. She was told Thompson was in interrogation room A. She went to the observation room and watched with another detective, Detective Morgan, and an officer, Officer Williams, as Thompson interrogated a young woman, around the age of 19. Belle watched the girl; examining her arm placement and her hands; even her breathing. Thompson finished her interrogation and came into the observation room.

"Ah, Porter, how'd the investigation go," Thompson asked.

"It was a dead end, the roof wouldn't have worked," Belle told her, not making eye contact.

"Thought so," Thompson said, arrogantly and started to leave the room.

"She doesn't know anything," Belle called out.

"What?" Thompson turned around to glare at Belle.

"The, um, the girl. She doesn't know anything about the murder," Belle told her.

"Oh yeah, Freak? And what makes you so sure about that?" She questioned.

"Well, she never took her hand off her stomach, like she was protecting it, which means she is pregnant or was pregnant, and I'm going to say was from my other observations which means she either lost the baby or had an abortion. Look at her breathing; In-2-3, hold-2-3, out-2-3, repeat. That's a breathing ritual to relax yourself; psychologists teach it to their patients if they're stressed. Now that could be from loss but I'm going to say abortion because if you look at her left hand there is a tan line on her ring finger. It's not very prominent meaning she only had a ring for about a month I'd say. So she got pregnant, her boyfriend proposed, she decided to get an abortion and her boyfriend left her, all in the span of a month," Belle finished her assessment.

"What does that have anything to do with whether she knows anything about the case?" Detective Morgan asked.

"Because if all of that happened to her recently within a month, she cried herself to sleep every night. She would be much more consumed in her own grief than to notice her neighbour across the street get thrown off a building." Belle concluded. "You're wasting your time with her."

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This was it; Belle stood and looked up at the large building in front of her. She took a deep breath and went inside. She went over to a board with the floor listings. _Observation room, Facial Test Studies, _she went through almost half the list before she found what she was looking for; _Office of Dr. C. Lightman, 5__th__ floor. _She took the elevator to the 5th floor and went up to the secretary's desk.

"Um, hello, I'm here to see Dr. Lightman," She told the woman.

"Do you have an appointment?" The woman looked at her.

"Well, no, but-" Belle was cut off.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to make an appointment and come back another time," The woman said.

"But this is important," Belle tried to reason.

"It's alright," Belle heard a woman's voice say behind her, "She's with me."

Belle turned around to see a tall woman with short, light brown hair smiling at the secretary. She turned back to look at the secretary who gave them a sceptical look before nodding. The woman made a motion for Belle to follow her before she headed into another room. Belle quickly obliged.

"So, what can I do for you?" The woman asked, motioning to a chair for her to sit in.

"Well, um, I was really here to see Dr. Lightman," Belle admitted.

"I'm Dr. Foster, I work very closely with Dr. Lightman. He should be in shortly but I figured we could get a head start on the situation," Dr. Foster gave her a smile.

"Alright, well," Belle took a deep breath, "My name is Belle Porter and I am a consultant to the D.C. police department. I discovered some evidence but I wasn't able to keep a hold on that evidence so now we have a dead man, no witnesses and no means of murder. I _know_ he was murdered and the police looked into a murder angle but there was nothing to hold it so now they're closing it as a suicide."

"And why did you come to us, Ms. Porter," Dr. Foster asked, gently.

"I have a suspicion on who the killer is, I think it's our victim's next door neighbour and … I was hoping Dr. Lightman could talk to them and maybe … see if they committed the murder. If he can point out lies then maybe … it's my only chance to catch this guy." Belle explained.

Just as she finished, Dr. Lightman walked in. She knew it was him from the photos she had seen on his website. "Who's this?" He asked Dr. Foster.

Dr. Foster nodded to Belle. Belle took a deep breath and told Dr. Lightman the whole story.


	2. Send me a Sign

"You wanted to see me, Dr. Lightman?" A tall man with dark brown hair asked from the doorway. Belle examined him which was simply habitual for her. He was handsome, that was the first the she took in about his appearance, but she didn't let that stop her examination of the man Lightman told her she would be working with. She looked at his hands; his fingertips were smoothed but not callused; the hands of someone who spends most of his time at a computer. She guessed that was most of his job description.

"Yes, Loker, this is Belle Porter. I need you to help her with a case," Lightman told him.

"Okay," Loker came into the room. "What's the case?"

"There's been a murder and I need you to tell me if I have the right guy," Belle put simply.

"You're attracted to me," Loker stated.

"Excuse me?" Belle was aback taken.

"You're attracted to me. Pupils dilated, not to mention, the obvious staring," Loker pointed out.

Belle rolled her eyes. "I was staring because I was examining you, it's what I do. Your fingertips tell me you're a computer nerd, your appearance tells me you're not in a relationship and that you live on your own, your-" Belle was cut off.

"I think he gets it," Lightman told her.

Belle nodded. "Besides, there's a difference to thinking you have attractive features and being attracted to you," She finished.

"Right, so … are we going to start on this case?" Loker asked.

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"Porter, if it's any consolation, I think you have attractive features too," Loker said as Belle pulled up in front of Mr. Smith's house.

"Belle," Belle corrected him.

"Sorry?" Loker asked.

"Call me Belle. Not enough people use my first name," Belle explained.

Loker nodded. "Eli." Belle gave him a smile which he returned before they both exited the car and headed to the door.

"Oh, Ms. Porter," Mr. Smith said as he answered the door, "What can I do for you? Did you need to look at the porch again?"

"Actually, sir. I was wondering if we might ask you a few questions?" Belle asked.

"Uh, yes, of course. Come in," He invited them into the living room and motioned to the couch for them to sit while he took the chair across from them.

"Mr. Smith, I'm Eli Loker, I work with the Lightman group. Have you heard of it?" Eli asked.

"Sorry, can't say I have," Mr. Smith confessed.

"Well, we read micro expressions, little expressions your face makes that show us how you're really feeling. Basically we can pick out if you're lying. Now, you said you'd never heard of the Lightman group. That was true. How long have you known Mr. Jones?" Eli questioned.

"About three years now," Mr. Smith answered. Belle watched his hands, which he started to clench and ring.

"Did you ever have any arguments with him?" Eli asked.

"Well, once or twice, but that was because he had a tree that he wouldn't trim back and the leaves were always falling in my pool. Nothing more than some neighbourly quarrels," Mr. Smith answered. Belle looked from his hands to his face. She could see little beads of sweat starting to form. This man was nervous.

"Did it ever turn violent?" Eli asked.

"No, it never turned violent," Mr. Smith shot back. "Now I know my rights, I don't have to answer any more of your questions. I want you to leave my house. _Now_."

Eli through up his hands and the two left without another word.

"He's hiding something," Belle said while Eli said, "He's lying," at the same time.

"How do you know?" Belle asked, starting the car.

"Well, when I asked how long he knew Jones, he showed a look of contempt just at his name. When I asked about the arguments, his face showed fear and his neck veins bulged. And when I asked if things ever turned violent, he answered by returning my question and he showed signs of satisfaction," Eli explained. "How did you know?"

"Well, he kept ringing his hands and he was sweating which means he was nervous about something. If he didn't have anything to hide he would have been calm and cooperated," Belle told him.

"Alright, so what do we do now? I've never worked outside the police."

"That's why we're going to them," Belle turned into the police station.

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Belle was putting on her visitors badge and Eli was just finished filling out his visitors card when Belle heard her pet name called.

"Freak, glad you're here. I want you to come and check something out," Thompson said, walking over to her.

Belle took a deep breath before replying, "Of course, but I wanted to talk to you about-" Belle was cut off.

"We'll talk about it, _after_ you come and check out interrogation room B," Thompson instructed before walking down to the holding cells.

"What was that?" Eli asked.

"What?" Belle returned.

"Well, when she called you a freak, it obviously bothered you," Eli examined.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Belle denied.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You had to compose yourself and you showed the expression of shame when she said it," Eli pointed out.

"Let's go see what she wants," Belle muttered and set off to the direction of the interrogation room.

"Alright, we think this man was involved in an armed robbery and I wanted to see what you think while you're here," Thompson explained.

"He's innocent," Belle concluded with a quick look at the man.

"What? But you've only looked at him for 5 seconds," Thompson countered.

"He just stopped biting his nails about, I dunno… a week ago, I'd say. Nail bitters bite their nails for two main reasons; when they're stressed and when they're bored. Now he's not bored but he's obviously not stressed enough to be biting his nails and if he was the armed robber, being taken into custody would give me enough reason to bite my nails," Belle explained.

Thompson pursed her lips. "Alright, we'll look into it. Now what did you need to discuss?"

"This is Eli Loker," Belle introduced, "He works for the Lightman group. We interviewed the next door neighbour, Roger Smith, and got some very interesting results."

"I told you, the case is closed, it was a suicide," Thompson dismissed.

"But it wasn't; we found new evidence," Belle protested.

"The case is closed. Unless you can give me physical evidence than we're done here," Thompson insisted. Belle remained silent. "That's what I thought. Look, we are not freaks, we use actual pieces of evidence to conclude investigations, not assumptions and hunches or whatever you'd like to call them."

"Observations," Belle corrected.

"Right," Thompson dismissed before exiting the room.

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"Why do you let her do that to you?" Eli asked as they walked to the car.

"I'm not discussing this," Belle insisted.

"Well, it's not like you're hiding it very well," Eli stated. Belle just focused on her driving. "You're ashamed, aren't you." Belle pursed her lips. "Yep, there it is. You're embarrassed that you can tell things about people like that. You know-" Belle cut him off.

"I'm paying the Lightman group to help me catch a killed, not look into my emotional standing with my current job," Belle said sternly.

"Alright. Okay … So I guess you can just drop me off at the Lightman building," Eli told her.

"Why?" Belle questioned.

"Because, aren't we done? The detective said the case was closed," Eli reminded her.

"Unless we get physical evidence," she corrected.

"But we don't have police assistance, and that Smith guy isn't going to let us into his house again without a warrant." Eli pointed out. Belle gave him a look. "Oh no. I am _not _breaking into the house of a potential murderer."

"Don't worry, we're not going to break into the house of a potential murderer." Eli let out a sigh of relief.

"We're breaking into the house of a dead man."

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_**Special thanks to CommonFlower for the review =) I'm really having fun writing this story; let me know what you think**_


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